


More Life

by mintjiminnie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Afro-Cuban Lance (Voltron), Artist Lance (Voltron), College AU, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Recreational Drug Use, Texan Keith (Voltron), mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintjiminnie/pseuds/mintjiminnie
Summary: Lance was used to loving in the dark. He was used to receiving a mediocre love given to him like old candies. Too many breakups and too many hard feelings left him skeptical to romance, no matter how much he craved a love like in the old school R&B songs.That is, until he meets a bouncer at a new night club downtown.





	1. Fake Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk tries to get Lance to open up while Lance is trying his hardest to shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This is an attempt at beating writer's block. 2) Afro-Cuban Lance is my fucking jam. 3) Yes, this fic is 100% Drake themed - fight me.

_I been down so long, it look like up to me_

_They look up to me_

_I got fake people showin’ fake love to me_

_Straight up to my face, straight up to my face_

 

If there was one thing Lance loved more than sleeping in, it was dancing. 

The vibrant pulse of the club music moved his hips in submission to rock with the beat. Bodies packed together on the dance floor, undulating together to create something beautiful - something alive.

Now, if you were to ask Lance, clubbing after a rough break up was never the answer. A person would be too vulnerable to accurately be aware of their surroundings. Emotions would bubble to the surface at any given moment and it often could put that person in a dangerous situation. 

But he'd never been very good at taking his own advice - was always more comfortable dishing it out rather than taking it.

So here he was, grinding in a pack of sweaty human beings hours after he dumped his boyfriend, his best friend Hunk keeping an eye on him from the bar.

And he does this to himself every time. He lets people in and lets them walk all over him. He was a doormat in the name of love and he hated that about himself. It had happened with every relationship he had ever been in, from his first girlfriend Nyma to his recent ex, Lotor.

Lance was just too nice. Being raised by a Cuban mother and a Southern black father meant that manners mattered and caring for others ran in his blood. But, so did dancing. So Lance continued to sway his hips to 'Fake Love' by Drake and pretend that the lyrics didn't apply to him.

A hand caressed up Lance's abdomen and settled on his hips. Lance turned to look who was behind him, seeing pretty brown eyes and brown skin. Shrugging, Lance danced with the stranger until he remembered that, _oh shit_ , Hunk was probably bored as fuck at the bar and it was probably getting late. With a smile and the grace of a true dancer, Lance detached himself from the man behind him and winked at him before heading off to find his best friend.

He found Hunk at the bar where he'd left him, nursing that same drink Lance had bought him as a way to say, 'thank you for dealing with my Messy Life™'. He easily slid an arm around Hunk's shoulders and settled down into the stool next to him.

"See anyone you like, Buddy?" Lance teased.

Hunk startled a bit at the sudden contact, but saw Lance smiling at him and relaxed. "No, have you?"

Lance shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Nah, wanna get out of here?" He eyed Hunk's half-full martini, smirking. "After, of course, you finish the drink I bought you?"

With a sigh, Hunk slid the glass to Lance and rested his elbows on the bar. "You finish it. I have to drive, remember?"

"Lightweight," Lance chuckled fondly, before grabbing the drink and tossing it back.

Hunk widened his eyes in distress. "Jesus, Lance, it's a martini, not a shot."

Inhaling and exhaling, Lance brought the glass back down to the counter. "Anything can be a shot if you try hard enough." He wiggled his eyebrows, giggling as he heard Hunk mumble something about alcoholism. Lance nudged him in the shoulder before getting up from his stool. "Oh come on, big guy! Live a little! Plus, I want my bed now, I'm tired. But I refuse to waste perfectly good alcohol."

Hunk rolled his eyes and got up from his seat as well. "Whatever you say buddy. Let's head home."

The cool night air hit Lance's heated skin and immediately reminded him why he was out in the first place. He rubbed his shoulders as he tried not to dwell in his feelings too much.

He slid into the passenger seat of Hunks yellow Jeep and sighed. Fall was upon them already in early October, and Lance's breath ghosted in the air. He sunk into his seat with a defeat in his shoulders that he'd been trying to hide from Hunk. But his best friend was keen and knew him all too well.

As Hunk maneuvered out of their parking space, he asked, "So...are we not gonna talk about it?"

Lance sank down further in his seat, grateful when Hunk switched on the heat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on, Lance. Don't do this again. Just tell me what happened between you two." Hunk's fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he drove to their apartment. "It might help you feel better to talk about it."

Lance scoffed. "There isn't anything to talk about."

The glare of a red light lit the side of his best friend’s face, and wow, okay maybe he shouldn’t have downed that drink cause either Hunk was actually angry with him or Lance was drunk.

“Lance,” Hunk said firmly. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Lance always hated this part. Hated explaining to his friends why he was single again. Hated telling them that his heart was chipped a little bit more. Hated looking into their eyes and seeing his confidence crack like glass. His lower lip wobbled a bit before he pulled himself together. He clenched his jaw as his shoulders rounded.

“I just,” Lance started, heavy sigh in his chest. “It’s the usual, ya know? I give one hundred percent of myself to a person that only gives me sixty, or seventy.” He paused. “Or in Lotor’s case, forty.”

Something flickered in Hunks eyes before he looked back to the road, the light turning green. “I don’t know what that means, Lance.”

Lance pressed his forehead against the cold window. “Do you remember when Danny and I first got together? We were both curious but he just… stayed curious. I fell in love and he just… _didn’t_.”

Hunk nodded but otherwise kept silent as they grew closer and closer to their apartment complex. Lance’s fingers itched to turn on the radio. Maybe if a random pop song played in the background Lance’s voice wouldn’t sound as sad.

“Well that kind of happened with Lotor, but different. I’m not completely mad at him though - I should have known better. The signs were all there.” He straightened up and rolled his neck to work out the muscles starting to tense.

He knew he was being cryptic but talking about stuff like this always knocked Lance down a couple of notches. He was always a shining beacon of confidence when he was single, but relationships were different with him. They always have been.

Hunk began to tap his fingers again on the wheel, looking straight ahead to the road. “I still don’t know what that means, buddy.” Lance huffed but before he could say anything, Hunk cut him off. “But I know you’re trying and that’s all that matters.”

Silence stretched between them as Hunk drove them home. It kept going even when Hunk rolled into his parking space, Lance staring at the glove compartment like his entire life was held inside of it. He distantly heard the ‘click’ of Hunk’s seatbelt unlatching and the engine cutting off.

Finally, Lance took a deep breath. “He was cheating on me. With his ‘best friend’. For, like, a majority of our relationship.”

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw Hunk freeze with his hand on the door handle. It was halfway open, and the cold October air started to seep into the car. Right into Lance’s gut at finally admitting it out loud. His boyfriend of ten months had been cheating on him for nine.

Braving a look, Lance glanced to see Hunk’s face.

He immediately regretted opening his mouth.

Hunk – sweet, beautiful, generous Hunk – looked a mixture between furious and pitying. Lance hated both reactions. They made him feel like a burden. Like he had unnecessarily upset his best friend when he could have keep it to himself. He could have shoved all of those emotions down his throat and let them fester until one day he choked on them. Hopefully in the privacy of his shower and not in a public place like class or something. That had almost happened once.

And seeing Hunk look so distraught over his mess, along with the martini he chugged, made it so hard to keep up his façade – made it that much harder to pretend that he was alright.

He wasn’t alright. He wasn’t alright. _He wasn’t fucking alright_.

Lance turned away from Hunk and unclicked his seatbelt, exiting the car fast and jerkily with the movements of someone on the edge of losing their shit. Because that’s what was happening. He was losing his grip over the situation.

Hunk was still frozen in the doorway of his jeep, eyes wide with sorrow and melancholy and sympathy and everything Lance didn’t want to see right now. Lance felt Hunk’s eyes on his back as he shakily took out the keys to their building and shouldered his way inside. He heard Hunk call his name and the car door slam and heavy footsteps following him, but Lance was already up the flight of stairs to their floor and shoving his key into the lock. He was already rushing inside to the closet to get a towel and locking himself in the bathroom by the time Hunk even set foot in their home.

He pretended that he couldn’t hear Hunk calling his name over the sound of running water. Lance stripped himself of his clothes and maybe the little dignity he had left because he’s one hundred percent sure Hunk knows he’s getting in the shower to cry. But that’s a small detail – not the big picture.

The big picture is him standing under the spray of hot water wondering what he ever did wrong. What was so wrong with him that all of his relationships ended in the ‘I-Just-Don’t-Love-You’ way. Even when he gave his all? Even when he showed them his everything.

Lance slowly washed his face, more smudging his eye makeup than anything since he hadn’t bothered with a makeup wipe. Suds from his face wash dripped into his eye and it opened the floodgates. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling or the hiccups from coming even if he wanted to. He hadn’t cried in months, and every insecurity that he felt in his most recent relationship reared their ugly heads as his sadness tore through him like a riptide.

He was pretty sure he was crying kind of loudly and that Hunk could hear him. But he didn’t care. Lance stayed under the spray until the water dropped in temperature and his hiccups subsided.

He stepped out and went through the motions of his skincare routine as if a puppet master were pulling his strings.

When Lance immerged from the bathroom he smelled something sweet. Bless Hunk, really. He was always going along with Lance’s mess and cleaning it up. With cookies and all.

But Lance wasn’t in the mood for any more interaction - he just wanted to go to bed. He had a paper due Monday that he hadn’t even started. He had planned on starting it tonight until all the shit hit the fan. But tomorrow was another day, and his baby blue sheets were calling to him loud and clear.

Lance climbed into bed with the grace of a dying giraffe. A groan left his throat as his head hit the pillow, grateful for the softness.

It didn’t take much for him to fall asleep, just a little counting backwards from ten and the promise of cookies in the morning tempting his consciousness to slip away.

~*~

Hunk was both the best and the worst roommate ever.

He was the best because he made Lance ‘Sorry-I-Pushed-You-To-Your-Emotional-Limit-Last-Night’ cookies. And snickerdoodles were part of the reason Lance’s ass was getting so fat.

He was the worst because he left his engineering shit literally _everywhere_.

Lance had no idea how a small metal part ended up in _his_ room, but it was the first thing he stepped on this morning. Which caused him to yelp and hop on his other foot. Which then caused him to fall backwards toward his bed and fuck up his back on the edge of his mattress.

So yeah, Hunk was great! But he was also kind of awful. And what’s worse was that he genuinely never did any of it on purpose, causing Lance to not have the heart to yell at him to pick up his fucking shit.

It just caused him to lay on his carpet floor in pain, staring up at the ceiling dramatically until Hunk wandered into his room to find him laying on the floor thirty minutes after the incident.

“Uh, dude?” Hunk wondered as he slowly approached Lance. “Whatcha doing on the floor, buddy?”

Lance dramatically sighed and threw an arm over his forehead. “I am injured, good sir.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Injured?”

“Yes,” Lance lamented. He extended his arm in Hunk’s direction, showing him the object in his hand. “I have stepped on a metal piece of shit and have fallen and cannot get up.”

Hunk looked at the metal piece in Lance’s hand before lighting up. “Oh!” He grabbed the piece quickly. “I was looking for this!”

Lance looked Hunk dead in the eye. “Then I’m glad my foot found it for you.”

His best friend chuckled nervously and straightened up to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, uh, thanks?”

Lance rolled his eyes and hoisted himself off of the floor. “No problem. Anytime you want me to blearily step on your important project pieces, I am at your beck and call.”

Hunk laughed and clapped Lance on the shoulder. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I literally rolled out of bed and onto the floor, big guy,” Lance joked. “I haven’t even washed my face yet.”

Hunk furrowed his brows. “Lance,” he started in a serious tone, “it’s almost eleven.”

Lance shrugged. “Sometimes you just gotta roll out of bed, my guy.”

“Don’t you have like, a paper due or something?”

Lance nodded and headed for the kitchen. “Yup. I’m going to smoke a blunt to the face and then write about my values and shit.”

At the mention of weed, Hunk perked up and followed him.

Lance busied himself with making a bowl of cereal.

“I’m gonna smoke with you. I’m at a standstill with my midterm project. Maybe I’ll think of something when I’m high.”

Lance knew what Hunk was doing and appreciated it. Kind of. He knew Hunk was trying to act normal. To act like nothing had happened last night. And he also knew that Hunk didn’t want Lance to get into the habit of getting high by himself. But Lance kind of wanted to get really fucking high. Which, considering he did have an assignment due tomorrow, he shouldn’t do. Bless Hunk.

“Alright, cool,” Lance said. “I’m gonna eat this cereal, get dressed and then roll it.” He looked up from his bowl as he settled onto one of the bar stools. “Unless you want to roll it?”

Hunk chuckled and shook his head. “We both know I’m very bad at it. You do it.”

“But you’ll never get any good at it if I keep holding your hand, man,” Lance teased, pointing his spoon at Hunk’s chest. “Practice makes perfect.”

Rolling his eyes, Hunk shook his head. “You and Pidge are the only people I ever smoke with and you both are very good at it. So, there’s no point.”

Lance made a ‘tsk’ noise with his teeth. “What would you ever do without me, beloved?”

Hunk chuckled and took out his phone. “I’d probably smoke a lot less.”

“Ah, but you’d also have a lot less fun,” Lance snorted.

“Fair enough,” Hunk agreed. “Hey, I’m gonna invite Pidge over if that’s alright? I haven’t heard from them in, like, forever.”

Scooping up a spoonful of cereal, Lance shrugged. “Sure. Tell them to bring pizza or something for when we’re too high to cook food safely.”

“I thought you were getting high to write your paper? Not to be trashed?”

“I’m getting high for a lot of reasons, big guy,” Lance commented nonchalantly.

Hunk sighed and put his phone down. “I know, man, but be careful? This paper is for your senior values class right? Can’t fail this class if you want to graduate.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course I know that. But the semester just started. Professor Mir just wants to get a feel for our personalities.” Lance put a hand on Hunk’s shoulder over the counter. “And I promise I will edit it when I’m sober before turning it in.”

Hunk relaxed a little bit. “Okay, dude.” He checked his phone again when it buzzed. “Pidge says they’ll be here in about an hour,” Hunk paused and looked Lance up and down dramatically. “Which means you should probably get dressed.”

Lance took the last bite of his cereal before drinking the sugary milk left behind. “Yeah, yeah, Mother Dearest. I’ll go get dressed.” And he needed to wash his face because he could feel his pores starting to act up. Not on his watch.

He got up from the stool at the counter and placed his empty bowl in the dishwasher. Lance passed a plate of snickerdoodle cookies and placed a hand over his heart. He turned back to Hunk, fluttering his lashes.

“Are these for _me_ , you beautiful piece of man?” Lance teased.

Hunk blushed a little and looked at his phone harder. “Uh, yeah.” He shifted in his seat.

“You’re so precious,” Lance cooed as he walked over to Hunk. He slung an arm around Hunk’s shoulders.

Hunk looked down at his lap. “I, uh, felt kind of bad for last night.” He scratched his chin. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

Lance’s eyes softened. “No, bud, I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m just a little sensitive right now.” He kissed Hunk on the cheek. “But thanks for the cookies.”

Hunk let out a breath. “Yeah, no problem.”

Lance pat him on the shoulder and started to walk down the hallway before Hunk called his name again. Lance turned around. “Yeah, bud?”

Hunk was giving him this soft look, like he did when they were little and Lance got hurt. Or when Lance’s older brother scared them and Lance just needed someone to hold him. “Don’t get too down about the Lotor thing. You deserve better.”

Lance remembered why Hunk was his best friend. It was because they cared about each other so much. “Thanks man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't updated The Crows Feasted for Days but I got caught up in graduating university and forgot where the fuck I was going with it since my old laptop had all the notes for it. But yeah, once I remember where I was going with it I'll update it. It's not dead I promise. I refuse to let that shit die.
> 
> Also, I know I'm probably missing some tags but I'll add as I remember them.


	2. Free Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and the gang get high. Pidge has some interesting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoking of any kind may lead to lung cancer, heart disease and a whole other list of bad shit. But do what makes you feel good. And if you're gonna smoke, smoke responsibly kiddies.
> 
> I've also only edited this once because I want this fic to update every Wednesday. So please excuse typos, beloveds.

_Is it the strength_

_Of your feelings_

_Overthrowing your pain?_

_Using your high to be reaching_

 

Pidge was a fucking gremlin.

Like, they literally looked like a gremlin right now through his apartment door peephole.

After Lance had washed his face and gotten dressed, Pidge was standing at his and Hunk’s apartment door with two large pizzas in hand, hair sticking every which way and bags under their eyes.

“Let me in!” Pidge yelled through the door.

Lance leaned against the wall and inspected his fingernails. “What’s the password, beloved?”

“I have tea to spill and pizza to eat so open up before I kick down this door!”

Hunk poked his head out from the kitchen on the left and raised an eyebrow. “Tea? Let them in.”

Lance chuckled before composing himself and opening the door. Pidge’s glasses glinted in the dim hallway lighting. “It’s not messy Monday yet but you know I love a good gossip session whenever it arrives,” he crooned and stepped to the side for Pidge to enter.

“I know, which is why I came here first, by the way. Because I love you bitches and want to talk shit with you,” Pidge grunted as they turned left into the kitchen. They set the pizza boxes down on the counter of the wall cutout overlooking the living room, placing the knapsack they were holding on the ground. Lance heard a distinctive ‘clink’.

His eyebrow shot up as a smile took over his face. “Did you bring Rover?”

Pidge smirked and bent over to open the bag on the floor. They gingerly lifted up a small gray hookah with a green and black hose. “Bitch, you _know_ I brought Rover. Wild mango flavor and all.”

Hunk gasped from the living room and peeked in through the kitchen cutout. “I love you, man.”

Pidge took Rover to the living room and sat it down next to the blunts Lance had just finished rolling. They looked at Lance quizzically. “Two?”

Lance shrugged sheepishly. “Yesterday was an awful fucking day.”

Pidge nodded their head and proceeded to set everything up. “Just so you know,” they said as they unwound the hose, “I have a lab due tomorrow that I haven’t even started. And if we’re smoking two big ones I’m crashing at your guy’s place and one of you has to drive me to class.”

“We also have assignments due tomorrow and fair enough, you know where the blankets are,” Lance agreed as he sat down on the floor and lit the first roll. He took the first couple of hits to get it going and passed it to Hunk, since Pidge was starting up Rover.

Pidge huffed. “Glad to know we’re all getting fucked up in the mist of our responsibilities.” They inhaled through the hose a few times before letting the smoke go in a large puff before passing it to Lance.

Hunk leaned back on the couch and took a hit from the blunt. “Where do you get these flavored papers from, man? I feel like you always have different ones.”

Puffing out thick clouds of mango smoke, Lance put his elbows on the coffee table. “Nyma always has them. Don’t know where or how she gets them.”

“Isn’t it weird that despite everything you guys went through, you’re still really good friends?” Pidge asked.

It _was_ weird, Lance supposed. Nyma and he were not very good together when they were _together_. They fought a lot and wanted different things when they were dating. It was always really high ups and super low downs in their romantic escapades but as friends they were always stable – always supported each other. And as great as their friendship was now, Lance couldn’t help being a little bitter at that.

He shrugged and passed the hose to Hunk, who in turn passed the blunt to Pidge. Whenever they smoked double time it was always a little rushed, always a little bit hazy, always a little bit harder to breathe as the smoke filled the air of the living room. But that’s what made it fun. Lance briefly contemplated lighting the second blunt and adding it to the circle instead of waiting for the first one to finish.

“We’re an odd couple either way. I’m just glad we don’t hate each other, you know? She’s super cool and gives me free kush and special flavored papers, like, all the fucking time. That’s not a bridge I want to burn, Pidgeon.”

Pidge hummed as they all continued the smoke circle in relative silence, letting the high creep into them as the smoke caressed their lungs like silk.

Hunk perked up suddenly. “Oh! What was this tea you promised?”

Pidge snapped out of their stupor and waved their hands excitedly. “It’s not drama but it’s super exciting!”

Lance, now sprawled on the floor, lolled his head to look over at Pidge. “Spill it.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Pidge buzzed as they took a puff of mango. “So, you know that childhood friend I told you guys about? The one from Texas?”

“The one that you would always go hunting with?” Hunk inquired as he smoked the dwindling blunt and passed it.

“Yeah! I hated hunting but his dad was really big on it so I would go with him to keep him company and shit. Anyway, he graduated with his mechanical engineering degree in May and he moved up here to be with his brother, Shiro!”

Lance cocked his head to the side. “That’s great, Pidge. But this is exciting for Hunk and I how?”

Pidge rolled their eyes and took a hit. “It’s exciting because he took a side job as a bouncer at this new night club that a family friend of mine opened downtown.” A sparkle lit Pidge’s eyes before saying, “A _gay_ nightclub.”

Lance slowly rose to a sitting position. “Now we’re talkin’!”

Nodding, Pidge continued, “Exactly. Anyway, I was hoping that we could go next weekend and you guys could meet him! It’d be awesome if my current best friends got along with my old best friend.” They batted their lashes at Hunk and Lance for added effect.

Hunk giggled, “Yeah. We’d be a whole quad then. A _quad squad_!” Oh boy. If Hunk was high, Lance was probably a couple seconds away from being lifted, too.

Pidge scrunched their face in disgust. “How dare you make me witness that pun in my own flesh and blood?” But giggles quickly shook their body as they whispered, “Quad squad.”

Lance shook his head and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the high to hit. Pidge and Hunk were obviously feeling it already.

“Oh!” Pidge yelled out suddenly, again. “I _do_ have juicy gossip that it very messy!”

Lance whipped his head in their direction and instantly felt like his face was melting. Shit, the high was here. “Tell me,” he whispered eagerly with a lilt in his voice. His cheeks tingled and he could feel something warm on the back of his tongue. His eyelids drooped slightly as his whole body relaxed.

Pidge set down the hookah pipe and motioned for Hunk and Lance to come closer. “You can’t tell anybody I told you this,” they giggled.

“Hit me,” Hunk demanded.

Pidge took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I saw Shiro and Matt making out in Matt’s bedroom last night.”

Multiple things happened all at once. Hunk screamed and dropped the leftover blunt on the carpet floor, Lance jumped to his feet with his eyes wide and almost knocked Rover over, and Pidge sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a small grin on their face. Lance snatched the roll before it could burn a hole in their carpet and started pacing the room.

“And this morning Shiro thought he snuck out of our apartment _but I saw him_ ,” Pidge added.

Lance turned back to them with his mouth hanging open and palms out. “Bu- ho- did they – but did they _fuck_?”

Pidge cackled and wrinkled their nose in glee. “I don’t know. But judging from the hickies on Matt’s neck I’m guessing somebody got lucky last night.”

Hunk’s hands flew to his hair, his yellow hoodie drawn in tight around his face. “You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a fucking smidge,” Pidge hissed gleefully.

Lance shook his head and sat back down, eyes still wide. He took another hit of kush and blew it out aggressively. “Holy fucking shit, man.”

“I know,” Pidge giggled again.

Lance stared at a spot on the table really hard before he realized he was still holding the blunt. He passed it to Pidge and giggled. “Dude. I didn’t even know Shiro was into boys?”

Pidge shrugged. “Last time I checked he still had a massive crush on Allura. Who, by the way, is the owner of the new gay nightclub downtown. She’s super fucking pretty. And kind of scary in her efficiency. I want you guys to meet her so fucking bad.”

Hunk’s eyebrows disappeared under his hood. “So, if he likes that chick, what’s he doing messing with your brother?”

“I don’t know,” Pidge drawled and blinked slow. “But I hope Matt knows what he’s doing. He knows Shiro likes Allura.”

Lance squinted and shook his head, blowing out mango smoke. “Yeah, that’d suck if Shiro was playing him. But Shiro’s also super fucking nice so I highly doubt that would happen.”

Hunk laid on his side on the couch. “Yeah, I don’t want Matt to be sad. That’s two sad people that I know and I think I can only handle one at a time.”

“One?” Pidge piped up. “Who’s the first one?”

Lance’s reactions were a bit delayed as he stared at the design on Rover’s hose. It was green with black triangles and Lance still remembered when he and Pidge ordered it online. Rover was their baby. Their small little hookah baby. And as Lance reached out to stare at the design closer, his mind distantly registered that Hunk was about to spill something. What? Lance couldn’t remember between the weed and the smooth mango smoke making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Lance is like, super sad cause his jackass of a boyfriend cheated on him. He cried last night,” Hunk mumbled with closed eyes and his hands pillowed under his cheek.

Pidge’s eyebrows shot up and their glasses fell down their nose. “He did _what_?”

“He cried,” Hunk repeated in a daze as he reached to light the other roll up.

“No, Hunk – not _Lance_. That fucking goon he was dating!”

Lance snapped out of his warm and fuzzy thoughts as he heard his name being yelled. “What? What did I do?”

Pidge pinched the bridge of their nose. “No, Lance, sweetie. Not you.”

“Oh,” Lance responded distantly before deciding he was kind of hungry. He got up and walked over to the pizza. The clock in the kitchen told him it was already past two in the afternoon. The numbers were kind of swirling together, but Lance knew they weren’t really. He was just high as a kite right now. And since Hunk lit up the other one, he was willing to wager that he’d get even higher soon.

He felt a tiny hand on his shoulder and it scared the living shit out of him. Lance yelped and turned quickly, finding Pidge right behind him.

“Lance,” Pidge murmured, looking way too sincere for someone who was high af. “What happened with your boyfriend?”

And _oh yeah_ , that was what he got high for. Lance scrunched his nose and sighed. “I was with him yesterday in his car when his phone went off. It was his best friend Acxa and he was driving so I told him I’d text her back for him. He got kind of fidgety after that and told me it wasn’t necessary but I had already picked up his phone and it said something like ‘I miss you when are you ditching the side piece’ and yeah long story short we got into a really big fight and I found out he starting dating Acxa a month after he started dating me.”

Pidge’s mouth was gaping slightly as her forehead crinkled. Lance thought they kind of looked like a fish. A small, human fish.

“Oh,” Lance added, “And he dropped me off on the side of the road because we were screaming at each other and I told him I was done with him. I walked home.” Lance hummed pleasantly as he opened the pizza box and eyed the biggest slice.

He could hear Hunk groan from the couch and looked over to see his best friend with his arm thrown over his face. “ _Lance_! You didn’t tell me all of _that_!”

Lance shrugged and sank his teeth into the slice he picked up. The cheese wasn’t as hot as it could have been, but they had been smoking for a while now, so all was forgiven. Plus, the texture felt amazing on his tongue anyway. "Din thin it wa imoporan," Lance mumbled around his slice.

"What?" Both Pidge and Hunk asked in unison. _Woah, that was freaky_ , Lance thought as he focused on the slice again.

Pidge nudged him, "What did you say before?"

Lance swallowed and shrugged. "I said I didn't think it was important."

"Not important?!" Hunk wailed. He rolled off of the coach and onto his feet before meeting Lance and Pidge at the counter. Hunk grabbed his own slice and gave Lance the blunt. "Leaving you on the side of the road is a pretty big deal! Why didn't you call me?"

Lance observed his friends from the corner of his eyes. He hated making them concerned when it really wasn't that big of a deal. Lance was a big boy. He could handle walking home by himself. It was fine. There was really no reason for Pidge and Hunk to look at him so sad.

He took a hit and passed it to Pidge and bit into his pizza again. "I was fine. It wasn't too far from home and you were probably busy."

Pidge groaned and ripped off a slice, heading back toward the coffee table. "Well, next time you're stranded on the side of the road, remember that you have tons of people that care about you and will jump that son of a bitch in a heartbeat," they mumbled.

Chucking, Lance followed them and sat back down. The room tilted as he looked at Pidge, their small shoulders rounding as they puffed on the blunt and then puffed harder on the hookah. "I'll keep that in mind," Lance relented. He figured he was damned if he didn't and damned if he did when it came to his friends, so he might as well stop fighting it.

Pidge perked up slightly. There was a light in their eyes that made Lance a smidgen paranoid. Or it could be the weed.

"I have a fucking amazing idea," they chirped.

 

*~*

 

There were so many things Keith could be doing right now. He could be working on some car model designs, he could be at the gym, or he could be sleeping like a baby because God knows he needed it. But nope.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

His brother was having a crisis and apparently had no other friends to vent to.

Shiro was pacing the hardwood floor of their living room and rubbing the back of his neck. "So, you think this is bad too, right?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "You mean making out with your best friend when you're going on a date with your boss in two days? Yeah, that's pretty bad, Shiro." This was at least the fifth time Shiro had asked him that question. At first, Keith tried to be understanding and yeah, he knew that discovering your sexuality was hard and stuff but no matter what Keith said to Shiro, his brother ignored it.

So, now Keith was a bit irritated.

Shiro huffed and flopped onto the couch next to Keith. "I should cancel my date with Allura, shouldn't I?"

Keith nodded and shrugged. "If you want to live, yeah." While Matt was a practical cupcake, Keith wouldn’t slide it past him to poison Shiro if really pushed to his emotional limit.

And if Matt didn't poison Shiro, Pidge definitely would.

Keith’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he silently thanked his lucky stars for the distraction. He looked and saw he had a message from Pidge. Speak of the devil.

"Just tell her that something came up if you don't want to tell her the truth," Keith muttered as he read the text.

 

 **From: Tiny Satan** 2:52 PM

_Hey, ur still single AF right?????_

Keith furrowed his brows and scoffed.

 **To: Tiny Satan** 2:52 PM

_What the fuck?????_

**To: Tiny Satan** 2:52 PM

 _Yea asshole. I’m 100% single af_.

 

Keith pocketed his phone again as Shiro continued to have his meltdown.

"I've wanted this date for years but I can't do that to Matt, right?" Shiro plowed on.

"Maybe you should just talk to Matt before you do anything. You know, pick up a fucking phone? Or maybe go to his house?" Keith paused before he waved his hand in front of Shiro's face. "Is any of this advice getting through to you?"

Shiro sighed heavily. "You’re right, I should just call him."

Keith threw up his hands in exasperation. “Thank you! Finally!” He leaned back into the leather black couch cushions and sighed. “Now, go call him before you pop a vein in your neck.”

His brother rolled his eyes at Keith and got up from the couch. “Fine, fine. I get it. You want to be alone.”

“No, Shiro. I want you to pick up the phone and talk out your problems like the adult we both know you are,” Keith chuckled. “But if I get a little peace and quiet out of it, I wouldn’t mind.” He gave Shiro a shit eating grin and patted him on the shoulder.

Shiro laughed. “Wow. Who knew my little brother was so wise?”

“I know you’re being sarcastic and I don’t appreciate it,” Keith scoffed as he felt his phone vibrate again. He pulled it out as Shiro hauled himself off of the couch and made his way to his bedroom. Keith heard him sigh and softly click his door shut.

 

 **From: Tiny Satan** 2:59 PM

_Good._

**From: Tiny Satan** 3:00 PM

_Look hot as fuck on Friday night. I got someone I want u to meet._

Keith’s face contorted in displeasure.

 

 **To: Tiny Satan** 3:00 PM

_I thought we both agreed that you suck at playing match maker_

Whenever Pidge visited him while he was still in school, they would always try to set him up with someone. Did he usually get laid? Sure. But that was about it. Keith was never very good at romantic relationships. And if Pidge was trying to get him laid, that was one thing, but Keith had a horrible sinking feeling Pidge wanted to set him up with a boyfriend.

 

 **From: Tiny Satan** 3:02 PM

_Listen u half eaten piece of corn bread_

**From: Tiny Satan** 3:02 PM

_I gotta friend here that is smokin hot with tanned legs for days and an ass that just wont quit._

**From: Tiny Satan** 3:03 PM

_And he’s single now and Im tryin to be #thebestfriendever so do what I say and look smokin hot for ur shift on Friday or so help me I’ll never let u do weird shit to my car ever again._

Keith read the messages about three times before groaning loudly. Why was his friend like this? But, he had to admit that he was curious now. And what if what Pidge said was really true? What if this guy was super hot and Keith could get a little action on Friday?

 

 **From: Tiny Satan** 3:09 PM

_Hey, Im just tryina spread the luv here. Be glad Im such a nice human being._

Keith rolled his eyes so hard he’s surprised they didn’t get stuck there.

 

 **To: Tiny Satan** 3:16 PM

_Whatever._

**To: Tiny Satan** 3:16 PM

_I’ll look hot then. Happy?_

**From: Tiny Satan** 3:17 PM

:)

 

Keith looked at his phone one more time before heaving an exasperated sigh and getting off the couch. He had little less than a week to worry about whatever the hell Pidge was trying to do. And judging by the rapid paced talking Shiro was doing, his conversation wasn’t going so well. And Keith was honestly only one person. One unsocialized, moody, tired person.

He could only deal with one issue at a time.

 

~*~

 

When Lance woke up, it was to chaos.

Pidge was asleep on the floor with no blanket or pillow, Hunk was taking up the entire couch with his one arm thrown over the couch arm and the other dangling off to the side, and Lance was curled up in the arm chair with a slice of pizza on his chest. Peaceful chaos. But chaos nevertheless.

With a groan, Lance heaved himself out of the chair and tiredly made his way to his opened laptop next to Rover on the coffee table. To his pleasant surprise, his paper was written. But judging by all of the misspelled words and cut off sentences, Lance had some heavy editing to do.

Lance glanced at the time on his laptop screen, seeing that it was only seven in the evening. He had plenty of time to edit his shit, then.

With a glance at his phone, Lance froze. He had two new text messages.

 

 **From: Long Hair Don’t Care** 6:24 PM

_Babe, I’m really sorry. Call me?_

**From: Long Hair Don’t Care** 6:58 PM

 _Please call me? I want to talk to you_.

 

Lance stared at his phone screen for what felt like forever. His heart rate picked up, his breathing became harder, and he distantly registered that he was having the beginnings of a panic attack.

Not wanting to go through that can of fresh hell, Lance crawled over to his best friend and kneeled down in front of his sleeping face. Lance felt bad for waking Hunk up – what if he got annoyed? What if he thought Lance was overreacting and was mad at Lance for interrupting his post-high nap?

Lance shook his head and let out a long breath to calm himself. Hunk wasn’t like that. He’d be supportive and loving and everything good that Lance has ever known.

He gently grabbed Hunk’s shoulders and shook him. Hunk’s body rocked with the motion and he curled a little further into the couch.

“Buddy, wake up,” Lance pressed, peering down at Hunk.

A groan escaped his best friend’s mouth as he sleepily swatted at Lance’s chest. Lance’s heart swelled with affection at the sight.

“Hunk, wake up. I need you to do something for me.”

Smacking his lips together, Hunk opened a lazy eye. “Hm? Lance?”

“Open my phone and tell Lotor to leave me alone,” Lance pleaded.

At the name of Lance’s ex, Hunk woke up more. “Lotor? Why? What’s going on?”

Rustling was heard behind Lance and he turned to see Pidge emerging from their slumber as well. “Why are you two so loud?”

“Lotor texted me and said he’s sorry and wants to talk and I’m scared that if I talk to him I’ll take him back,” Lance got out in a rush.

Pidge shot up from the floor, all traces of sleep gone. “The fuck you will!”

Lance scrambled for his phone on the coffee table before Pidge could get their little gremlin paws on it. “No no nono. Hunk is doing this, not you. Hunk will at least be civil.”

“No I won’t,” Hunk scowled. “He left you on the side of the road to walk home. We’ve past the point of ‘civil’, Lance.”

Lance turned back to Hunk in mock hurt and pleaded with his puppy eyes. “Please? Just tell him I don’t want to talk to him. Calmly. And if he doesn’t leave me alone after that, then I’ll give the phone to Pidge and they can scream all they want at him,” Lance reasoned.

“I’m screaming regardless,” Pidge argued back.

Hunk looked conflicted and Lance hated it a little bit. Maybe he should just give the phone to Pidge.

Finally, Hunk relented with a defeated sigh. “Fine. Give me the phone.”

Smiling, Lance handed Hunk his cell and hunkered down with Pidge behind the coffee table, hands supporting their chins as Hunk unlocked Lance’s phone and typed away.

“You have to read everything out loud,” Pidge insisted.

“Yeah, I know the drill,” Hunk muttered back, fingers still gliding over the keypad. After a few moments of tense silence, Hunk cleared his throat. “Okay,” he started, “I have created this masterpiece of text that is equal parts calm and telling him to back the fuck off.”

Lance tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“It reads: ’Hello, this is Hunk. Lance would prefer that you do not talk to him, and personally, so do I. Please refrain from contacting him again. Thank you, and have a wonderful evening.’ Is that nice enough?”

The corners of Pidge’s gaping mouth pulled down in disgust. “That’s so fucking nice! He doesn’t deserve that! He’s a dick!”

“Send it,” Lance chimed in before Hunk deleted it. He turned to Pidge beside him. “And plus, if he doesn’t listen to that very polite request, you get to yell at him and block his number on my phone.”

Pidge grumbled under their breath but didn’t say anything else.

Hunk tapped the phone screen and announced, “Sent it!”

Lance let out a relieved breath, glad he didn’t have to deal with that by himself. “Alright, cool, now we just wait and see if he replies. And if he does, we unleash Pidgeon.”

“Hey! I’m not an animal!” Pidge screeched indignantly.

Hunk reached across the coffee table and patted Pidge on the head. “No, sweetie. You’re just terrifying.”

Pidge huffed and turned to Lance. “Anyway, I forgot to tell you guys that we are _definitely_ going to Castle of Lions on Friday night.”

Hunk and Lance shared a look of confusion. “Castle of Lions?”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “The new gay club downtown. We’re going on Friday.”

Lance balked. “Nope! No no! I thought you were just reaching when you said we were going next week.”

“Why would I kid about gay clubbing. I love gay clubbing. _You_ love gay clubbing. _Hunk_ lets us drag him to do gay clubbing.”

“I – I don’t – I can’t –“ Lance sputtered, trying to find his words. It’s not that he didn’t want to go clubbing. He loved dancing. It’s just that it was so _soon_. He honestly regretted clubbing last night after his breakup because it made him feel shittier. It made him feel like he was using people. Like he was struggling to get by. And maybe he was struggling. But Lance wanted to struggle _by himself_ in the comfort of his own bed.

“No buts!” Pidge yelled. “We’re going gay clubbing and we’re going to have a great fucking time! And you all get to meet Allura. She’s a bamf and I admire her level of savagery.”

Sensing that Pidge was super excited about this for some reason, Lance gave in. “Fine. But if I want to go home early, you’re gonna let me. Deal?” Lance held out his hand for Pidge to shake.

Pidge grinned, an evil little twinkle in their eye that made Lance wary. “Deal,” they said as they grabbed Lance’s hand.

Maybe Friday night won’t be a total disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Garrison Trio are litty titty 24/7 lmao. Also, fuck Lotor.


	3. Jorja Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance really wants to ride that ride, and Keith is 95% with the shits (Pidge changes it to 100% with the shits).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Crawls out of crippling grad school assignments*, *punches depression in the face*, *vomits this old 4k chapter*, *refuses to watch season 8*
> 
> Enjoy this slowburn garbage, beloveds.

_When you see them fall down_

_But you pick ‘em up_

_You still let them touch the ground_

_Don’t worry I swear_

_They’ll know you tried to help_

 

Monday passed by in a blur of post-high and post-breakup fog. Classes droned on and Lance tried his damnedest to pretend that the prickly hands of his depression and anxiety weren’t wrapping their fingers around his throat and slowly choking him. But he was fine. Lance was fine. He was always fine.

So he trudged on through Monday with the thin mask of a person slowly losing their shit but on Tuesday he woke up and thought everything was going to be better. It had to be better. He already cried in the shower on Saturday, so logically it was all up from there.

Logically.

With the hope that everything would be better, Lance jumped out of bed on Tuesday with a positive attitude and a will to make it happen. And the first step to making it happen was coffee.

After finishing his morning skin routine and straightening his hair, Lance stepped back from the mirror and examined himself.

He was wearing a gray cropped sweatshirt under a green army jacket given to him by his grandfather that served in the Air Force. He inspected the patches to make sure that none were loose and grinned. He hadn’t been to North Carolina to see his grandpop in a while, but wearing the jacket always made Lance feel better. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but just the weight of it on his shoulders made him feel safe. And paired with his top and ripped black jeans Lance would go so far to say that he was a dime piece.

He finger-gunned his reflection and winked. “Today’s gonna be a good day, good lookin’.” _I hope_ , a small voice in his head said - the beginnings of his anxiety trying to get to him.

He waved his hand in front of his face lazily. “Nope, nope, nooope. Today is gonna be a good fucking day cause my ass looks amazing in these jeans.”

After fiddling with his hair a bit more, Lance was ready to go and out his apartment door in search of coffee. The weather outside was windy, but the sun was shining bright in the October sky as Lance rolled into his favorite coffee place just outside of campus. It was a small coffee shop that him and Hunk had stumbled upon their freshman year. With a name like ‘Vreppit Sal’s’, the two needed to see what the hell that even meant. Turns out, they make pretty damn good coffee. And even better lattes.

With his caramel coconut latte in tow, Lance made his way to campus. He had made sure to leave with enough time before class to get his coffee but hadn’t counted on the owner practically begging him to try to convince Hunk to work there again. Hunk had worked there during his junior year spring break to earn a little extra cash, and Sal has wanted Hunk to work there as a side job ever since. Lance felt so bad that he had let Sal sing Hunk’s praises for an extra ten minutes and was rushing to campus.

Or at least he was rushing until he hit what felt like almost every single red light on the way. Lance groaned and impatiently tapped his fingers on his fuzzy white steering wheel cover and sighed. “Of fucking course,” he muttered as he rolled to a stop at yet another light.

The purr of an engine caught Lance’s attention and just as he rolled his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a motorcycle to his left in the turn lane.

If he had been drinking his latte, Lance would have spit it out all over his dashboard. He sucked in a gasp.

To his left was a sexy red and black motorcycle. A Ducati, to be exact. Lance didn’t know much about motorcycles but living and being around Hunk meant that Lance at least knew what an iconic Ducati looked like. That, and watching rap videos.

But what really turned Lance’s gears was the man sitting on the bike. The red and black helmet he wore blocked his face, but Lance wasn’t concerned about that. He was fit in black jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and stopped just before a trim waistline. A red leather jacket sat on broad shoulders and what Lance imagined to be toned biceps. To say that the guy was attractive would have been an understatement.

He was fucking _hot_.

And Lance _wanted_.

Wanted to ride on that bike. Wanted to hug that man from behind as they sped down the highway. Wanted to touch that man’s thighs flirtatiously. Wanted to park somewhere in a hidden alcove and take his helmet off and kiss him. Wanted to be manhandled by those strong arms and - _oh god he’s wearing fingerless leather gloves what the fuck_.

Lance wanted to be fucked on that sexy red bike by that super attractive man. A heavy blush rose to his cheeks as he realized what the hell he just thought. “Jesus, Lance, pull yourself together,” he huffed and shifted his jeans.

As Lance went to look away to calm himself down, the man on the bike looked in his direction.

Lance’s eyes widened and he squeaked. Fuck, he might have been caught staring lustfully at the guy. Did he have no shame?

Apparently, the guy on the bike had no shame either as he nodded his head and revved his engine for no other reason than to make Lance blush deeper. Lance bit his lower lip and reached for his latte to seem busy and save at least a shred of his dignity.

The light in the turning lane finally changed to green as Lance shyly sipped his drink and stared straight ahead at the road. He heard the motorcycle engine rev aggressively again and turned his head to see hot Ducati man solute him with two fingers and a head nod before taking off down to the left.

Lance put his latte down and made a dying whale noise. His light finally turned green.

No shame. There was no shame at all.

 

~*~

 

Back on campus, Lance lamented his tale of woe to Pidge as they walked through the courtyard together. There were students littering the stretch of grass, trying to soak up as much sun as they could before winter arrived. The trees were turning pretty oranges and reds, but Pidge’s grating laughter was kind of ruining the scenery.

“What, did you get a boner from the bike or something?” they wheezed.

“No,” Lance snapped. “I simply appreciated the sleek design of a well-made vehicle.”

Pidge snorted. “You literally texted me, and I quote, ‘I just saw the sexiest fucking bike in the world and the rider revved his engine for me and was super hot god fuckin’ bless’.”

“That doesn’t mean that I got a boner,” Lance defended.

“Sure, Jan.”

“I didn’t!”

“Mmhmm.”

“Pidge!”

“Okay okaaaay, I’ll let up,” Pidge relented. “But it’s still super fuckin’ funny.”

Lance grumbled under his breath but stopped when Pidge suddenly halted in their tracks. They put their hand on his chest and back pedaled him behind a nearby tree.

“Pidge? What the fuck?”

“Shhhh,” Pidge hissed.

“Why did you just soccer mom me?” Lance hissed back.

“Shut up!” Pidge instructed as they peeked around the tree.

Rolling his eyes, Lance looked over Pidge’s shoulder only to freeze.

Lotor was coming their way from the other side of the courtyard with Acxa by his side. They were having an intense conversation it seemed, voices low and hushed. He looked tired, but it didn’t look like he or Acxa saw them.

“Move it,” Pidge whispered and pushed Lance behind the tree again. They huddled there together for a minute as they heard footsteps go by and peeked to see that they were walking away.

Lance let out a breath. “Thank fuck.” He turned to Pidge, who was glaring at the couple as they walked away. “I owe you big time, buddy. I don’t think I’d have been able to handle a conflict today.”

“No problem,” Pidge murmured, still glaring and not really paying attention to Lance.

He patted them on the shoulder. “You get ‘friend of the day’,” he joked. His heart was beating crazy fast, but at least his hands weren’t shaking.

Pidge shook their head and finally looked at him. “Yeah, yeah.” They glanced at their phone. “Fuck! I’m gonna be late!”

Lance pulled out his phone as well. He had about twenty minutes before meeting with his advisor about his senior thesis.

“You go on ahead, I’ll see ya later kid,” Lance said as they gathered their stuff and took off across the courtyard. Lance watched them go and sighed. Despite all the shit that Pidge gave him, Lance knew it was out of love and they’d go to fucking war for him. All he had to do was say the word and Pidge would be there, ready to brawl. He loved that about them, and knew that he’d do the same thing in return.

Lance adjusted his backpack and stepped out from behind the tree to start off toward the art and music building for his appointment. He glanced at his phone. Seventeen minutes left. He could take the scenic route past the fountain. Maybe he’d throw a penny in for luck. Lord knows he needed it.

As he strolled, he thought back to the motorcycle guy. Or as him and Pidge affectionately named him, Mr. Ducati. Lance wondered if he was local, and if so, was he gay? Or at least bi? But if he wasn’t into boys, why would he revv his engine at Lance, who was clearly undressing him with his eyes? Maybe they’ll run into each other again and Lance could–

“Oof,” Lance huffed as he was ripped out of his thoughts by a strong shoulder bumping his. Lance turned to face the person, an apology ready on his lips, but frowned when faced with Zethrid and Ezor. He glanced around Zethrid to also find Narti and her therapy cat, Kova. Lance heaved a heavy sigh. The last thing he fucking needed today was to deal with Lotor’s little clique. “Um, can I help you all?”

Ezor nodded, her long red ponytail swinging. “Actually yeah, you can.” Lance had a bad feeling in his gut about this encounter.

He sighed and shifted his weight. “Okay…”

Zethrid put her giant pale hands on his shoulders and looked him in his eyes, which Lance noted was scary as fuck. She was built like a linebacker, and Lance knew from following her on Instagram that she could dead lift two of him. “We need you to talk to Lotor.”

Lance blanched. “Excuse me?”

Ezor patted Zethrid on the back and gently removed her hands from Lance’s personal space. “Babe, I got this.” She turned to Lance, her tan skin gleaming in the October sun. “What she means is, we need you to consider talking to Lotor again. He’s been super sad and bitchy lately and we figured it’s because of the way you guys ended things.”

Lance stared over his shoulder to Narti in distress, arms splayed wide in confusion. She shrugged her shoulders in sympathy at him. He shook his head in disbelief. “Hold up, hold up.” Lance placed a hand on his hip. “You want _me_ to talk to _Lotor_ because he’s _sad_ _he got caught cheating on me_?”

Ezor winced at Lance’s words. She fiddled with the hem of her purple sweater. “I mean… kinda? Yeah?”

A humorless laugh escaped Lance’s throat as he side-stepped Zethrid and started walking away. “Yeah, sure okay. I’m _absolutely_ gonna do that! It’s at the tippity top of my to-do list because I have _nothing_ better to do than to talk to my asshole ex that left me on the side of the fucking road after I found out he cheated on me. Yep, sure!”

Before he could get too far, Narti was in his way with Kova at her feet staring up at him. She started signing at him frantically.

Lance waited for her to finish before sighing. “Narti, look. I get what you’re saying, but I’m not going to be stupid enough to give him another chance. I don’t want to look like a fucking idiot.”

Zethrid stepped beside Narti and crossed her arms. “Lance, we know he fucked up, but just give him one more chance.”

“Not even that, Lance. Just talk to him,” Ezor chimed in. “I don’t think it’s fair of us to ask you to date him again, but please just consider answering his calls.”

Lance looked back at her to see her hands clasped in front of her chest. He hated everything about this. Lance knew it was just them being considerate friends to Lotor, but they were completely disregarding Lance’s feelings. Lance didn’t give a flying fuck if Lotor was upset. He made his bed and now he had to sleep in it. But looking at those hopeful eyes on Ezor’s face, Lance couldn’t help but consider it an option. He was such a sucker sometimes.

He ran a tired hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll consider it. But I’m not promising anything.”

Ezor squealed and hugged him from the side. “You’re the best, Lance! You make him a better person, you’re so good for him.”

 _Yeah, but apparently I’m not good_ enough _for him_ , Lance thought miserably. Oh boy, here come the bad thoughts again. _If I’m so good, then why wasn’t I good enough?_

Lance managed a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure thing, Ez.”

He wasn’t good enough for Nyma, and he wasn’t good enough for Lotor. What was wrong with him? He always gave his all one hundred and ten percent, so why wasn’t his all ever _enough_?

Ezor grabbed Zethrid’s large freckled arm and dragged her back to the direction they had come from, calling back, “Come on, Narti!” as she went. From the corner of Lance’s eye he saw Narti stop and turn to sign ‘I’m sorry’ at him before hurrying up to join her friends.

Lance looked at his phone. He had two minutes before his appointment.

 

~*~

 

Keith parked his bike at Altea Motor Shop and looked up at the sleek building. It was modern, with large windows and a white exterior with blue accents. He could see the large mouth of the garage doors where all the cars were waiting to be fixed or inspected and felt his hands start to get jittery. This was his dream job. Working with cars for a living was something his high school self would have creamed his pants over.

He thought back to the cute boy he saw at the stop light and flushed slightly. Sure, he had acted like a total tool when he noticed an incredibly beautiful boy looking at his bike. But who could blame him? He had smooth brown skin and toasted-color hair. His chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes made Keith want to salivate. And those blue eyes were _totally checking him out_. Pretty boys made him do dumb things. Like rev the engine of his brand new red Ducati Multistrada 1260 to impress said boy. Too bad he might not ever see him again. With a sad sigh, Keith squared his shoulders and made his way inside the building to find his new boss.

Keith smirked to himself at the thought of now calling Coran his _boss._ Which was both weird and exciting. Keith nodded to the receptionist inside when he saw she was on the phone. She smiled at him and pointed to the back right office next to the garage entrance and mouthed for him to go on through.

Keith nodded a thank you and went back to the room, taking in the large window that let him see Coran inside. His back was to the door, so Keith knocked before entering.

The tall man turned, his fingers twirling his orange mustache. “Keith, my boy! How’s it shakin’?”

Keith rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the blue armchairs in front of the man’s desk. “Hey Coran," he replied. "I'm good, how are you?"

Coran smiled brightly. "I'm wonderful! So excited to have you on the team, my boy!"

Keith chuckled. "Thanks, Coran. I'm super excited to be here." He looked around the room, taking in all of Coran's knickknacks and collectable model cars. "This is like a dream, honestly."

The older man's smile softened. "I know, Keith. Which is why I was so glad Alfor agreed to take you on. I expect great things, my boy."

"Yeah. When Allura told me I got the job, I honestly thought she was playing around with me."

"Nope! No leg-pulling here, I assure you! We're lucky to have such raw talent and passion with us."

Keith flushed, a little flustered at all of the compliments. "Thanks."

Clapping his hands together, Coran walked around his desk. "Now, let's get you settled in!"

Following Coran, Keith ended up in the garage in front of an old 1995 Cadillac Eldorado. Or at least… the shell of one. The car had its hood up, and from what Keith could see, didn’t have much left under the hood.

Coran clapped his hands together and turned to face Keith. “Before we let you work with our clientele, Alfor and I thought it’d be a fun little project for you to work on this Eldorado to see what you’ve really got!”

Keith was very confused. “…You want me to restore it?” he ventured. Keith loved restoring cars but usually they at least had a little something more to them than _this_.

Coran nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! A client of ours found this ole’ girl in an abandoned lot and since Altea Motor Shoppe is also known for our great restorations, he brought it here.”

Slowly, Keith nodded. “And it’s missing how much?”

“Oh, she was almost completely gutted! So, you have essentially a blank slate to start from.” Coran clapped Keith on his back. “I want you to have fun with this – really take your time to think about how you’re going to bring this beauty back to life. The sky’s the limit!”

Keith ran his hand along the rusted hood and let out a slow breath. “I can do whatever I want?”

“As long as it looks like a true Eldorado by the time you’re finished, you can do whatever,” Coran paused before cuffing Keith’s shoulder. “You can do anything _legal_.”

Keith laughed and shook his head. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

The older man leaned in to stage a whisper near Keith’s ear. “If you want to do illegal things to your red beast out there however, we can chat later,” he whispered with a wink.

It wasn’t that Keith didn’t ever think of modifying his bike, but he just bought it and was in sinking debt because of it. “Maybe when it’s not so new to me,” he muttered. He was still making payments on that bike and it still hurt his heart to write those checks. His 2011 Honda Civic though? Now _that_ was fair game to fuck with. In a loving manner, that is.

 

~*~

 

With a flourish that only they could master, Pidge set out throwing their shit around Keith’s living room like they lived there. Well, Shiro and Keith’s living room. But still.

“Why do you have the guest manner of a teenage boy?” Keith complained from the couch while pulling up Netflix. Pidge had forced these Tuesday night movies upon him and Keith wasn’t entirely ungrateful. He’d be less ungrateful if Pidge didn’t leave their shit everywhere.

Pidge glared at him before pulling out a vape pen and passing it to him.

Keith raised an eyebrow at it. “You’re a vape bro now?”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “No, but I _am_ aware that Shiro is a helicopter parent and will spaz on you if he smells weed in here.” They shake the pen playfully. “And this little baby doesn’t leave the room smelling like dank when we’re done.”

Keith nodded and took the pen from them. “I appreciate you, Pidge - I ever tell you that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop sucking my dick and pick a movie for us to watch.”

Once Pidge settled on the couch, the two end up picking a horror movie. They only got four minutes in before Pidge opened their mouth.

“So, about Friday…” they started.

Keith fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Are you going to bother me about this all night?”

“Not all night. I just want to be sure we’re on the same page here.”

“And what page is that,” Keith mumbled as he tried to follow the opening storyline of the film.

Pidge took a hit from their vape pen and turned to face him before slowly letting it out. “I’m getting you a boyfriend on this wonderful upcoming Friday.”

“No, Pidge,” Keith groaned. “You know I-“

“Yes! I’ve very aware of your social inability to keep a man. But this one’s different,” Pidge pleaded. Their eyes were big and shining from the flickering of the television. “I can feel it in my _loins_ ,” they hissed.

Keith finally turned to look at them. “Your loins? Why are you sexually invested in this? Who is this guy anyway?”

Pidge fished their phone out from their pocket. “I’m not sexually invested. I’m emotionally invested. You guys are two of my best friends and I want you both to be happy.”

“If you want us both to be happy, why am I just hearing about this now?”

Pidge paused in their tapping before continuing. “Lance hasn’t been having a very good time lately. He just broke up with his cheating boyfriend on Saturday.”

“And you want me to be the rebound? How does that help me in the long run?” Keith didn’t like the sound of that. He’d been a rebound before and honestly couldn’t imagine putting himself through that again.

“Not a rebound!” Pidge insisted. “I want you to be The One for him! You know, the one that treats him right – I know you’re capable of feelings! I’ve seen them once!”

“I cried once and that’s only because Toy Story 3 is fucking sad, Pidge!” he argued.

Pidge pointed at him accusingly. “I still saw you feel! Stop concealing them from me!”

Keith sat up straighter with his brows furrowed. “Are you seriously throwing Frozen references at me right now?”

“Yeah, Elsa. I’m knocking on your door. Do you wanna get a boyfriend?” they sang and turned their phone screen to face Keith.

It was an Instagram photo of a beautiful boy with brown skin, toasted hair and stunning blue eyes. The same brown skin, toasted hair and stunning blue eyes Keith had seen this morning. Holy shit. Keith grabbed Pidges phone in awe as he studied the photo.

The boy was sitting on a kitchen counter in tight light-wash jeans and a pink hoodie, looking over his shoulder at the camera with a coy expression. He had a half-full wine glass in his hand and the caption read, “REEL IT IN”.

“This is the friend you’re setting me up with?” he asked stupidly.

Pidge nodded. “Yup! The name is Lance McClain, 21 years of age, afro-cuban, and a senior art major.”

Keith stared harder at the picture before relenting and telling Pidge sheepishly, “I think I saw him this morning.”

Pidge frowned and slowly took their phone back. “Explain.”

Keith ran a hand through his hair. “I think I saw him at a stop light this morning and I’m pretty sure he was checking me out.”

Out of all of the responses Keith thought he would get, hysterical laughter was not one of them. Pidge was red in the face with it, holding their sides and tears forming in the corners of their eyes as they fought past their amusement to breathe.

Keith was, however, not amused. “What?” he snapped.

Wiping the tears from their eyes and inhaling deeply Pidge sat up. “No, no. It’s just hilarious because you’re the hot guy Lance was gushing about today. He talked about you all morning. I had a sneaking suspicion that it might be you, since who the FUCK else is driving a Ducati in October, but man does it feel good to know I was right.”

Keith stopped hearing things after ‘hot guy Lance was gushing about’. Now, don’t get him wrong. Keith knew he was pretty easy on the eyes. He was a gym rat, and his body showed for it, but man, did it feel good to be someone else’s hot guy. Keith was a hot guy’s _hot guy_!

Pidge put their phone down and smirked. “See, my matchmaking is already working!”

“And he broke up with his ex because he cheated?” Keith asked incredulously, because who the hell would cheat on _that_? Maybe the kid had a shit personality? But, that wouldn’t make sense because Pidge was nothing if not an excellent judge of character.

A sour look pulled Pidge’s face. “Fucking Lotor. What a jerkoff. He cheated on Lance with some chick he was always hanging out with. And when Lance confronted him about it, Lotor kicked him out of the car and made him walk home. Next time I see that kid I’m punching him in the dick.”

“That’s…” Keith tried, but failed. Because that was pretty fucked up. “So he got dumped?”

Pidge winced. “We prefer to think of it as Lance leaving him. Not the other way around.”

“Uh-huh…”

Suddenly, Pidge grabbed his hand. “Please take this Friday seriously. Lance is a great guy and better friend. I just want you guys to be happy. Promise me you’ll at least try.”

His friend didn’t have to beg Keith to try and get laid. Even if this Lance person only wanted a distraction, Keith was finding himself down to give Lance that luxury. He doubted the kid was looking for a boyfriend so soon after being burned, but if they both benefited from a few booty calls, who was to judge?

“Yeah,” Keith said finally. “I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me I am but a depressed little bab trying to do art for a living. Life is pain.


End file.
